Nebulous
by MidnightMoonWarrior
Summary: After the events of Ghost Protocol, Benji isn't sleeping well. The team notices. A drabble of team views after their second official mission together, looking to the future after a crash course on teamwork that was the movie. Ft. Team-Dad-Hunt.
1. Benji

This is part of the 'Benji needs more love' collection that I feel the need to add to. Each chapter is a different POV, except for the last one so that it comes full circle.

Reviews are welcomed and encouraged.

Enjoy.

* * *

He hoped it wasn't that obvious.

There was no direct cover to shield him from the gazes of the others, just packs of people that passed infrequently due to the late hour on a Monday night. All the people departing were situated at the other end of the airport, just to screw him over.

Perhaps they hadn't noticed yet, he really hoped they hadn't. Just another moment without the attention on him was appreciated, his subconscious tallying the blissful seconds.

On some level, he knew that one of them (more like all) would notice the dark circles or the way he consumed coffee in amounts that rivaled the others caffeine rates combined. He was tired, they were highly trained agents; something had to give. They had been staring enough during the last few days for him to come to a conclusion that was probably the right theory.

Perhaps no vocal concern had been voiced for the simple, but enormous reason that was their second mission as a team. First officially, because they now had the analyst back in the field instead of glued to his desk, but really no one had expected to get to number two. Rarely did a mission happen of world destruction proportions and a team escaped unscathed.

Yet somehow they had, at least for the most part anyway.

A yawn escaped, causing rippled in his carefully placed illusion. Despite the fact that it was weaning as the weariness came back, the adrenaline abating from the mission, he struggled to keep it up. Just a few more moments, then he would be able to collapse into his seat on the plane.

He was alone at the moment, thankfully; the others talking to the desk manager about something that he couldn't hear because it was out of earshot, but frankly he didn't care. Despite the fact that their attention (Jane and Brandt that was, since Ethan had told them good job before having to go meet with the new Secretary) was focused somewhere other than on him, he still had to stay on his feet.

All the seats were taken, because while people weren't walking past him in a timely fashion to cover him, there were still families and businessmen putting their asses and belongings in the seats. He was almost tempted to move the bags and just plop down without asking. That probably wasn't the best idea though, because even though Brandt would come to his rescue and Jane would probably stab someone with her heels, starting possible fights in an airport was never a good plan.

Sure, he had proper ID on him, fake but legitimate (though it was an oxymoron), having scrutiny placed upon him would delay his travel home to his bed. Which meant a delay of sleep. No fights. Nope, not happening.

It would draw attention to him, something to avoid at all costs.

So he stood. This was difficult since his feet were starting to ache, as well as the bruises just starting to make themselves known. He had been trained to not let them show, but only to an extent; he had to focus. Any wavering on his part would draw their attention.

Ignorance was not bliss, despite the commonly known phrase, but it had been working for the past week; facing the fact that he was quickly becoming an insomniac, although it was possible he was already classified in that category, was not a bridge he ever wanted to cross. So he was becoming scared of the dark, that didn't mean he had to face the shadows.

He knew he would have to. Soon, just not now.

The nightmares were not going away, no they were getting worse. While he knew that they had won, that the world was not a cesspool of radiation and explosions, that it was all over; it didn't stop his mind from exploiting the possibilities. The what ifs, the futures that seemed to split in a thousand directions when he remembered memories of the mission of impossible proportions.

Sleep, which was essential to survival and completion of missions, was evil. This conclusion had come to him and established itself as truth right after the first night. It knew all his weaknesses, his fears, and it was all used against him. When his eyelids closed, even for a moment, like now when they teetered on the edge, everything went wrong.

Jane falls through the square of air, a long horizontal hallway of industrial glass following her to her death. His belly against the expensive black tile, air rushing past his ears as he reached out. Skin against skin, the darker shade slipping right past. Dark eyes on him, wide with fear, as the smooth vocals whispered his name. Moreau laughed as he screamed.

The bullet hits the wrong target, the limp body being that of an analyst. No matter that his hands had been steady as ever, no matter that the two men looked nothing alike, making it easy to see the difference between target and ally. The remaining man ignores the blood pooling, stepping into it before tracking red footprints to where he guards the oh so crucial lever.

His mind wanders to long on leaving Jane with her own time clock ticking, never mind the world's, which distracts him from his newest mission. Compassion was a double edged blade; without it you were soulless and doomed to fail, but with too much you were not able to do specific tasks that were necessary, in that case you were doomed to fail as well. The latter is his downfall, his thoughts causing his feet against the carpet to drag a second more than necessary; Wistrom cracks bone before he can take the shot. The neck of Brandt broken, the gun clatters silently as his mind goes blank with only one word left. _No._ Wistrom grins before coming for his own life.

The first terror had been unseen; Ethan being crushed under the ruined magnificence that had been the Kremlin. Grinding of bones, splattering of blood of his leader, just because his younger self had taken the shorter route out of the area; the elder giving him a quick smile before they parted. There had been no guards as he ran, while the older man had been held up instructing the others to close the gates. It had been seconds wasted, just long enough. The falling stone shook around him, mocking him as the static in his ears went silent.

The last was a moment of recognition. It was overpowering, scary, and the most common in the torture; they didn't win. His hands were shaking, the wiring regressing into its tangled state no matter what he did, the flashlight useless in his grasp. It wasn't an option to doubt, yet the truth rang deep, rattling his bones. There was silence, just before the faintest shock wave was felt. Failure howled until the retaliation missile hit.

They all had haunted every shadow, all drops of darkness that associated themselves with sleep.

Nope, he was not going to be closing his eyes anytime soon. It was his third time rereading the flyer on how to register for a credit card that lead to magical free airline miles, just something to keep the hamster on the wheel called his brain running. He would have read the fine print, scrunched at the bottom of the poster, but the strain was too much for his drooping eyelids. His eyes started to water, a yawn appearing on the tip of his tongue.

"Looks interesting" A sign that he was truly bone deep tired was the fact that he did not jump at the sudden appearance of a teammate. His guard was not only down, it did not exist; thankfully the mission was over, so his lack of agent skills not being present was not that big of a deal.

"It's a scam for regular people…" He swallowed a yawn while stretching. The ache in his limbs almost made the movement impossible, but he managed. "…the only people who really benefit are the business travelers, those who fly five or more times a month"

Somehow he had found the energy to do the calculations in his head, the truth being that the cost of the card was really only worth it for a certain type of traveler. That being said, the fact that they marketed it to all customers, most of which may or may not consider it, was a brilliant strategy that he may have employed by this time if he had gone into business like his parents had wanted him to. Technically, he was doing business, depending on how you defined the word.

"You mean like us?" Brandt smiled at his own minor joke; or at least he assumed this, eye contact would increase contact with the signs of exhaustion. He would not afford that right now.

A weary chuckle somehow was produced; he knew that it would be abnormal of his behavior not to laugh at the lame statement. He was supposed to be acting like nothing was wrong, like he wasn't dead on his feet.

He would not be winning an Oscar anytime soon, because apparently his charade was going to shit, this being proven by the fact that Brandt was no longer laughing and that another set of feet had come to stand beside him. And he had been doing so well, almost home free…

Dammit.

"Benji" A hand closed itself around his shoulder; it was delicate yet strong, too familiar to be a threat. That would be Jane; on some level he had known that it would be her to discover it first, she was the mother hen of the team after all. And that had nothing to do with the fact that she was the only female. Actually it was more something along the lines of maternal instincts, cooking abilities for delicious soup (Ethan could burn water, Brandt wasn't that much better, and he didn't even try), and the fact that she was scary enough to keep them in bed while being tender at the same time.

"Hmmm?" Smooth, his subconscious muttered, _smooth._ Oh yes, that will completely fool them. They will magically leave him alone now.

Shit.

His free shoulder, which did not have manicured nails on them, now had a more calloused hand it; he doesn't even have to look to know that the both of them are looking at him, with concern, and at each other, formulating a plan, at the same time.

At least Ethan wasn't there, because while the two flanking him would sneakily find out the information, their leader would more than likely stonewall him as the first attempt to find out what was going on. It was just the man's style, which he was glad he didn't have to deal with now.

"Are you okay, you look a bit…" The sentence was cut off by the fuzzy and overused speakers announcing that their flight was now boarding.

The thought of used, smelly, leather seats was the only thing that had him moving forward. It was a rush of pure motivation that had him moving, because his physical self was wanting to introduce him to the floor. That's what happened when you went three plus days with little to no sleep, mix in a mission and collapsing in an airport wasn't such a bad thing. Not causing a scene was high on the list, but at the moment he just wanted to sit…

Now if only he could get to the airplane.

Pushing out of the combined clutches of those whose blood he had seen pool below them so many times before, thankfully never in reality, he trudged forward. Probably looking like the love child of a drunk and a zombie, but each step got him closer to home.

The others were staring, again; they could stare all they wanted, he just wanted to rest. But not sleep. Seeing one more person killed might just send him to the grave, over the edge; were you able to dream in the afterlife?

Didn't matter, he just wanted a crappy airplane seat and a beer.

"What's up with him?"

"No idea."

And for his teammates not to be on the same flight.


	2. Will

Enjoy.

* * *

Come on, think! The repeated chant was doing nothing for him, even though he needed the focus now more than ever. Perhaps the chant needed a ritualistic dance to accompany it for results to be produced, he would consider it if he wasn't being dragged onto the plane.

His worn fingers rubbed against his temples, trying to get his big brain to work. The average brain weighed three pounds, his was supposedly a bit larger, but at this point it seemed that the vital organ was shriveling into uselessness.

Billions upon billions of neurons were buzzing, sending information back and forth, relaying memories that had been stored and deleted, the later needed to be reviewed a second time for importance levels. While it was capable of remembering hundreds of faces, and the statistics that went with them, along with a million other things ranging from how the team took their coffee from the current federal most wanted list, it was drawing a blank.

His query was simple, simplistic in the sense that even toddler would be able to find an answer, yet his own form of Google was turning up no results. At this point, it was possible that a monkey with a keyboard could come up with something.

After five minutes and ten failed searches, he was now manually combing through his files. It was taking all his skills of researching and skimming to keep the process moving. It was painstakingly slow and frustrating as hell, but this way he knew he would not miss anything. Not even a shred of information, a hint, which would give him something to go on in determining what the hell was going on with Benji.

It did not take a genius to detect when something was amiss, yet somehow it had taken him, a super spy, weeks to notice. _WEEKS!_ Sure, he had not been around the man for the entire span of time that he had ignorantly been oblivious, but he had just spent days with the man in close quarters and had NOT noticed. Some may have blamed it on the fact that they were on a mission with stress and almost being killed, yada yada yada, bullshit….it was his fault. Plain and simple.

How could he be so ignorant? Sure he missed simple things sometimes, but this was not something that was simple in any way, shape, or form. At least it shouldn't be. Complications had to be involved when considering the person they were dealing with; an agent's life was not an easy one.

The problem that he was attempting to solve should not even exist; Benji was not one to let things stick with him. Sure he was caring and loving, but the technical agent didn't take things personally. Insults slid right off while the man laughed at them, not that he or the others would let anyone insult Benji while they were around. The man seemed to not have any problems, ready to help others rather than talk about his own things, but that was obviously that was wrong since the man looked like he was about ready to drop dead.

A few of the unfocused brain cells, that refused to cooperate with the massive information hunt, mused that he at the moment looked like he had a massive migraine or that one was growing in pain.

If he was alone, the intense look of concentration, not pain although the two were becoming close enough to being the same, on his face may have become a problem. There were always the helpful civilians on the horizon to offer assistance, even if it wasn't needed, that would have forced themselves on him, armed with water and the stray Motrin tablet that a middle aged woman had in the crack of her purse. Then someone would make a flimsy sleep mask appear to snap onto his face, to combat the pain coming from light sensitivity. Not to mention ear plugs, the stupid things that would have to be crammed into his ears. They would make him vulnerable from the assassin that could be lurking around the next corner, not that it would matter as they pressed against his ear canal.

Thankfully, he didn't have to deal with that. There were eyes on him, mostly of concern as he moved almost blindly onto the flight, but there was also a pair glaring out. A smooth hand was gripping his forearm, guiding him forward as he focused on tracking down any wisp of something that would help. The nails were manicured and only slightly digging into his skin, as the glaring eyes kept a body sized space of air between him and everyone else all around him.

Jane, despite the fact that he had a good five inches and fifty plus pounds on her, was currently close enough to support his weight if his legs decided to give out. Not that that would happen but she seemed prepared to drag his ass onto the plane if needed.

Wordlessly it had been decided that he would search while she made sure the three of them made it onto the plane. To this point, she was doing just that, because he was alone in his mind conquest and even though he could not see him, he knew that she had a sniper scope like gaze on Benji.

No need to worry, the badass bobcat, as Benji had affectionately called her after she had beat the hell out of a guy twice her size, was here.

A few more brain cells had abandoned the fruitless, so far, search and wondered if the situation would be different if their mighty leader were here. The situation probably would have descended into an interrogation, which was exactly was Benji did not need. Then again, he had not spotted that anything was wrong, so he could be wrong about anything concerning the technology expert.

Perhaps it was for the best that Jane had been talking to Ethan before the breaking news of trouble had broken; her voice had shifted when their eyes had landed on their swaying teammate, no way that Hunt would miss that. He had left to investigate, which had led to where he was now.

He felt himself be gently pushed into a seat, a motion that he complied with fully with even with his eyes closed. Not to say that it was comfortable, but at least he wasn't leaning on Jane anymore. Still nothing was coming to mind, which was doing nothing for his mood. His nerves were shredded and frankly close to being nonexistence.

"I better have a window seat dammit"

The grumbled statement disappeared within the noise of the other passengers, but not before a feminine chuckle filled his ears. He let out a soft laugh himself; it would tide him over from not hitting his head against the seat in front of him in an attempt to kill his non cooperative brain.

One flight to go, plenty of time to search.


	3. Jane

Enjoy.

* * *

Patience was a strong suit of hers; it had to be when stuck with a team that was made up of impulsive, irritating, and immature idiots, although at times they were just plain annoying. Not that she did not enjoy their company, they were good for conversation and backup, but after the third time of them crashing her date night, she was ready to rip someone's throat out with her teeth. As it turns out though, you can catch a fleeing IMF agent in a little black number and six inch heels; they had avoided her for a week after that.

Rarely did her patience slip, her extensive control keeping it in check. When the unfortunate happened, causing irritation to turn to anger, it was not pretty. Hence the reason why her patience level was high; because if it did get to the point where the explosion did happen, then the cause would deserve it.

Airports were one of those things that stretched her invaluable asset of patience for a few reasons. Usually noise topped the list of annoyances because when were they in an airport? After a mission. When did a headache usually form? When there was too much noise and/or stress. Where was the highest concentration of noise in one contained area? The airport. Little to say, she hated waiting to board.

To occupy herself, she usually found herself wandering. Not too far of course, so that she could hear the announcement when the time came, but just stretching her legs. More times than not, some part of her body appreciated a slow pace of movement in comparison to standing still. So she would wander and look at the stores used to entertain and entice flyers with a variety of products. Some of them mundane and useful, others exotic and utterly fruitless, and far and in between a mixture of the two. Local draft beers, voodoo dolls, and even gold bars; the possibilities were endless depending where you were.

The same could not be said for her. At the late hour, many of the shops were closed which left her window shopping for the most part. As long as she could detach and have a moment to herself, the activity didn't matter. Modulation and reflection of herself was important, especially after a mission when the blood pressure went down and the weight of the situation came off your shoulders. While for many missions it was hard to leave it all behind, it was possible for some.

The one behind them was one such; there were no serious complications, a lack of moral quandaries, and no injuries other than sore muscles. Overall, it was business as usual other than their team leader being flown privately back to HQ immediately afterwards. But even that was not completely unusual with a new team and new Secretary.

Focusing on the clothing staring back at her through the storefront, she wondered if it would last. She liked this team, but she had also liked the last one and it was gone.

The thought was pessimistic, but so were the actions of her teammates, if not crazy. Benji was new to the field and while he was ready to serve, he leaned on the team too much. It was a trait that would disappear with time, but considering they were on the fast track for the most high profile missions due to the other two men on her team; he might not have the time to grow. The agent was only thinking five moves ahead when in reality it needed to be more like ten to keep up with their ever changing situation that was embroiled in IMF politics.

Brandt on the other hand thought too much. It came with serving the last few years as the chief analyst, his brain working at the same high speed of categorization and recall that was needed. But it had not completely made the transition into being a field agent again, leading him to over think nearly everything. That coupled with the baggage of his previous time in the field and office, he ranked high in assets of the agency. Getting him to remain in the field was a fight in itself and it was one of the many reasons more scrutiny was on them than others.

Ethan Hunt was a storm himself, one that swirled within the situation that was their joint lives. Complications, pain, and memories were his armor that helped him survive the dangers he faced, his mind molding the impossible into tools for success. So was the way of the poster boy for the IMF, the legend that allowed their special brand of insanity to flourish. It was fitting for him to have the title, as the myth that he lived off of the madness had never been disproven. He always got up and finished what was started.

But Ethan was old. Many agents his age faded into the framework of the agency as analysts, trainers, or the top brass. The lucky ones retired, leaving for civilian life, but most couldn't handle the monotony. This was obviously the case with their leader, but at some point his joints wouldn't flex as needed or catch him when he jumped towards a small hand hold. He wouldn't get up as fast after being shot, his hands might shake.

Danger wouldn't stop him, his own body would at some point. Or his mind would become muddled, distracted to the point where he wouldn't register the threat and be shot in the chest when she was only a minute away...

Jane breathed deeply, walking to the next shop to take her mind off of Hanaway. She had mourned him, knowing that some of the situation had been out of her hands. But the others on her team now, the same could happen to them. And unfortunately, the question statistically was not if but when. Perhaps she was the one thinking too far ahead, but it seemed so close considering the realities of their place.

For a change of pace, she walked towards into the nearest open shop for a snack. Despite how unhealthy of a habit it was, she found that her nerves calmed when eating. Considering the last time she had eaten was before the mission, she considered herself justified in gorging on sugary foods the convenience store had to offer.

As she was browsing the candy aisle, a large bottle of water already picked out, her phone buzzed. It was a burner, a leftover of the mission, and as a result was in theory reachable only to the few people with the number. To be safe however, she checked the caller ID before answering.

She smiled slightly, wondering if the caller's ears had been burning.

"Agent Hunt, to what do I owe the call?" In reality she knew it was a combination of his control issues and making sure they hadn't killed each other yet. Despite his cool demeanor, the man had looked slightly nervous leaving them alone on the flight home. There was little indication that they would not get along, but considering the circumstances of their team forming, anything was possible.

That, or the old man had a heart. Not that she would say that to his face.

"What, can I not call to see how a friend is doing?" The voice in her ear was obviously tired, but amused at her greeting.

"Not when we are technically still on company time, no." She retorted, going back to browsing between peanut butter cups or something with actual nuts. Until they reached the safe house, they were to still be on guard, even if it was loose at best. In reality they had little to be worried about, but it was policy.

"You should have boarded by now." It wasn't a question nor was there even an attempt to disguise the lure for information. Not that she would expect it from him, they were teammates after all.

"The plane was delayed by rain, it's refueling now." When hearing that announcement, all three of them had groaned because it meant a longer night than expected. It had only been twenty minutes ago, but stretched out it felt like a lifetime.

"Are the others alive after that crushing blow?" Ethan understood, joking as an attempt to make light of the situation. They both knew full well that it was not the worst thing that had happened to the members on the team nor would it ever be anywhere close. But expectations were expectations and being denied it was disappointing.

She peeked out from the aisle she was in to line up sights on her teammates. It was one of the reasons she appreciated the layout of the airport, because after you exited security the stores were in a circular pattern with the terminals mostly in the middle. So it made it easy to locate them and in turn them watch her.

"Hm." She hummed, locating them.

Brandt was where she had left him, sitting against a wall fiddling with a tablet in hand. More than likely he was trying to get a jump start on their paperwork that they had to file in triplicate, something that he amazed them by doing after the Cobalt fiasco. But it helped him relax, so it was considered normal.

Benji on the other hand looked similar to a zombie from the terrible movies he had them watch. While he was also where she had left him, staring at an advertisement, there was no movement. No typing or stretching of muscles, he was just stock still for the most part. He was swaying slightly, before jerking himself straight.

"Jane?" Her pause had not gone unnoticed; a change in tone occurring from what the conversation had been before.

"Has Benji been sleeping?" She asked, wondering when the last time she had seen him do so. The only related image she found coming to mind was the tech with coffee, lots of coffee.

"Last night he was preparing the virus for the mission..." The older man waned off, obviously doing the same thing she was and trying to remember the same scene.

"The night before he was playing video games and before that I'm not sure." Thinking aloud, she could not remember a time that Benji had not gone to bed after her and risen before. It was normal to be tired from a mission, a nervous wreck even, but Benji just looked weary just from behind.

"That bad?" The concern was obvious in Hunt's voice as he considered her responses. She knew he cared, even if he had a hard time showing it at times.

There was no answer she could give with certainty; it might just be she was over exaggerating with her own tired mind. But as she went back to the candy aisle to pick out her purchases, she knew she wasn't. "You're meeting us right?"

"South-East exit." He confirmed, his neutral tone evident of the fact that he wanted more information but knew not to push for it.

"See you then Boss." She ended the call, picking out a simple chocolate bar for herself and a package for Benji. Walking up to the counter, she paid and proceeded to walk back across the lobby. The path of wandering that had taken fifteen minutes to travel only took three to retrace. Walking over to Brandt first, she tapped his foot.

"Are we taking off soon?" The still typing man asked.

Wanting his full attention, she repeated the motion. Will paused in his work, before looking up at her. She motioned towards Benji, who was in earshot. The analyst followed her gaze and stared for a moment. Not even in his distraction could he be that dense to not see what she did and as predicted, the dots connected themselves.

"Oh." Brandt rose from the floor, stretching his back afterwards. He tucked the device into a small carry on, before looking at her. At that moment, the announcement for boarding their late flight came on overhead.

No time like the present, she thought, to find out what was wrong with their teammate. In tandem they moved towards the wavering agent who was still looking at the same poster. Hopefully she had information to tell Ethan when they landed; otherwise her predictions of team dissolution might be sooner than she thought.

As a small consolation for what she hoped was catastrophizing, at least there were snacks.


	4. Ethan (ft Benji)

Enjoy.

* * *

Contrary to popular interagency belief, he did enjoy some mundane tasks.

It was not a prerequisite that the building he was in had to be on fire. Guns being fired at him were not a must have item for a grocery trip, nor were angry yells of confusion as he was on a run. These things were not musts, although he would admit it was more fun when they were involved. Besides that point, adrenaline was not necessary for everything he did.

Currently he was driving. True he was speeding slightly, but otherwise it was just a normal trip. No one was shooting at him or trying to knock him off the road, and other than a little traffic (which he used maneuvers to get around) there were few obstacles in his path.

He found driving in a civilian manner to be relaxing, a smooth trip that gave him time away from the stress that was normally around him. Some might call it boring, but having a moment to himself where he was not a legend was always refreshing. He did not hate the path he was on, nor did he find it perfect, but a change of pace was never unwanted. Even if it meant stopping at lights instead of speeding through them as though he was being persuaded.

While stopped, he took a quick look at his phone in the passenger seat. He was on schedule to be early, to give him time to run a quick errand, but the unexpected always occurred randomly. There were no messages or missed calls, the small amount of tension bled out of him before it had a chance to grow. Nothing was wrong, they were fine.

In his youth he had had little problem with leaving responsibility with others. As long as the mission was finished, as long as the impossible could be done, he would be fine. His singular focus was on the mission, not what surrounded it. He mourned the dead, cared for the living, but the mission...

The light turned and he accelerated, planning his next step. Years later, he had lost so many. The mission was still important, still a focus, but his team was a close second. They were experienced, but naive. Optimistic in their loyalty, but pessimistic in their outlook. Capable and proficient, but haunted by the past. They reminded him of himself, with enough arrogance to oppose him when needed and yet, the skills to keep up with his infamous favoritism of insanity.

He wasn't worried that something would happen to them, it was too soon to admit that he cared. But they worked well with him and had all chosen to stay when he had offered. None of them had needed a push or prodding to accept other than Brandt, which was due to years of guilt. They had stayed, which for someone with a long list of accomplishments was not normal. He knew many people, had a network miles long, but those who he trusted his life to? Limited at best.

This being said, he was nervous about his earlier phone call with Jane. She was a good agent and was able to keep the others, himself included in line. Leaving the team to attend a meeting was smoother with her presence. But her comment about Benji had put him on a path of reflection about his friend.

Benji was dependable and intelligent, but more suited to roles away from the action. He lacked the experience of the stress that came with some of the more high tension situations. This was no fault of the man, it came with time. A lack of sleep was not life threatening, at least not yet, but he still felt responsible for Benji. Not as a leader, but a friend.

Regular sleep was necessary in the long term to allow their training to work; a cloudy mind could get you killed. With this in mind, he knew at some point he needed to find the source of Benji's problem and help as best he could. Most agents had to figure it out for themselves, but for a friend and a member of his new team that was likely to be busy for the foreseeable future, help was warranted.

It was dark out, early in the new day as he neared his destination. Checking the time, he was perfectly able to make a small stop before reaching his goal. Pulling up, the speaker promptly blared at him. Ordering and paying took little time, the longest period waiting for them to brew a fresh pot like he had asked. It took longer, but his team would thank him for it and after all he did have time.

Looking over his shoulder deeper into the vehicle, he took note that everything was still how he had set it up. After the call from her he had emptied the safe house they would be staying out of relevant materials and despite the fact that he, the well-rested one of the group, would be hauling them back inside, he was satisfied with what he had created.

Checking his phone once more and finding no notification of danger, he accepted the drinks with thanks. Making sure his precious liquid cargo was secure, he got back on the road. The airport wasn't hard to find, though going 3 miles an hour through a near deserted complex was a bit tenuous. Finding the appropriate exit, he parked and got out to stretch his legs.

With limited bags outside of carry on, they wouldn't be long. Still, he enjoyed the moment of a slightly chilly night while sipping his hot coffee. He could have easily sent a newer agent to do this for him, in fact a few volunteered, but it gave him time outside of the office and ensured he could deal with any issues relating to Benji head on.

As expected, they didn't take long. A short fifteen minutes after their plane had landed, three slowly moving figures appeared in his vision. Having parked directly in view from the doors, he waited for them to register him. In the meantime he raised an eyebrow at the sight of Benji being shouldered by the others, lightly leaning on them at times. The man was obviously still conscious, but perhaps not clear, and it gave him a better view of the situation. He could deal with what he saw and that gave him a sense of relief.

Jane saw him first, smiling as she wearily greeted him. The flight must have been hard on them, he thought. "Ethan."

Standing from where he had been leaning against their ride, he reached to relieve her of her load. Benji bumped into his shoulder, before looking up at him and then to the vehicle. With a confused look, the younger man stared before rubbing his eyes.

Brandt said the question the two were thinking, with a tone of disbelief. "A minivan?"

Jane giggled as she stowed her stuff in the back. "You turn into a soccer mom on us?"

"The correct term is stay at home dad." He replied with a small smirk. He had chosen the larger and slower vehicle because it would be more comfortable on the ride home. Being secure in your confidence and skill set had its perks, including dealing with the teasing.

The analyst seemed to see the logic in such a choice, Jane on the other hand said. "As long as you don't hit any camels I don't care what you drive."

His smile got a bit wider, but he faked irritation. "Just for that, I will keep the coffee to myself."

The reaction was immediate.

"No No, don't lump me in with her!" Brandt exclaimed, looking near distraught at the idea of no coffee.

Jane looked disappointed, but refused to take back her comment, a stance he respected. Ignoring the analyst as he began listing the reasons why there were no camels in the United States, let alone Virgina, the older man brought Benji closer to the van. The tired agent was leaning on him more heavily now and despite being shorter than the man, it was easy to manipulate him. Sliding open one of the doors, he said. "Benji you're in the back."

Knowing the other two would just take whatever seats he could, he let Benji crawl into the mess he had specifically created in the back before circling back to the driver's seat. As the other two settled in, Brandt in the middle row with his computer back taking the other seat, and Jane in the front, Ethan passed out the drinks.

"Thanks boss" Jane accepted her large iced coffee, with caramel flavoring, while settling the pillow he had provided against the window to lean on.

"I could kiss you." Will muttered in relief, immediately taking a sip of his particular mix of a little coffee and a lot of cream and sugar.

"I don't think Julia would mind too much." He winked as Brandt sputtered in response, the coffee nearly tipping over as a result. Jane laughed a tired laugh, being in a state where most everything was funny. Honestly it was just too easy to mess with Brandt, but he pushed it aside to focus on their fourth member.

Benji, the agent who was lying face down in the nest of pillows and blankets he had created. It hadn't taken long, but he had carefully created the most comfortable surface he could so that hopefully Benji would be able to sleep. Most agents were out like a light given the chance, but the human mind was a funny thing. Currently one said mind was wrapped in layers of blankets to the point where it was hard to tell where he exactly was in the mess.

"Benji." He tossed the drink at the man, having it land near but not on him.

The owner of the name groaned, a head poking out of the makeshift bed. Grappling for a moment to find the drink, Ethan waited for the recognition to kick on.

"A juice box, you got me a juice box?" The incredulous tone he was somewhat known for accompanied the response, which Ethan took as a sign that Benji had had trouble sleeping but nothing too serious.

"You said you liked apple juice." He sheepishly said, noting that Brandt was shaking his head with a grin.

Jane on the other hand was digging in her own bag, before bringing out a package and tossing it to the backseat as well. "In case you wanted a snack."

"Gummy bears?!" There was no heat to it, but Benji was definitely rolling his eyes at his ludicrous teammates.

"To keep you company obviously." Brandt snarked in a rare form of humor outside of dry one liners. Benji responded wearily, but with conviction as he wanted to prove his lack of need for gummy anything.

Ethan suspected that the actions, while slightly patronizing, were appreciated in the moment. However, it was still amusing considering what else he had left in the back seat. But Benji would find it eventually and he wasn't going to mention it, it was time to get home. Making sure everyone was ready, they drove off and Ethan listened as the conversation died down in the van.

The lights of the airport soon gave way to the dark highway, the light of sunrise still hours off. Looking in the rearview mirror, he found Benji asleep with only small patches of skin and hair sticking out against the dark blankets. Brandt too was asleep, computer open but set aside on the other seat. Thankfully the man had had the foresight to prevent a crick in the next, but his limbs were tucked in and likely to be sore tomorrow. And Jane was buried in the pillow, blanket covering her despite the limited space of the front seat.

Checking his other mirrors, he was drawn to the backseat against by movement. Benji twitched before turning over, obviously in some form of distress. The man brushed the packaging of the gummy bears, the crinkling filling the space. Ethan said nothing, just watching as the younger man settled again before drifting back to sleep, the snack and drink forgotten.

He would have to talk to the other man soon, see what would help him. However for now, all three of his team were safe and sound, getting the sleep they needed. Overall, it was mission accomplished.

As he planned for the next step, mainly taking them to breakfast and then breaking the news they had a physical test, which they would all dread, within the week, he decided he didn't worry about them much. But he was fond of them, perhaps being a glorified soccer mom wasn't the worst thing.

Besides, he was sure he could still outrun someone in a minivan.

xXx

 _He is running. Explosions. The com in his ear cuts out in a scream. She slips from his grasp and is gone, hair dark against the sun and sky. A gunshot, a gasp, a snapped neck. A body hits the ground and he's too late, the warhead ignites. Dead, glassy eyes look up from a face of a friend telling him he's the only one left. He is consumed by fire and radiation._

Consciousness is moving darkness. From one moment to the next he comes back, a shudder going down him as he remembers where he is. The world outside passes by in dim recognition as he recognizes it.

Taking a deep breath, he silently curses as he hits the plastic bag Jane had gifted earlier. Knocking it to the ground with the juice box, he twists in place trying to get comfortable. The food and drink didn't bother him, despite the light argument he had put up earlier, he would have laughed more if he wasn't tired. It was exhausting being tired, the fatigue dampening his mood. Irritation usually came when the tech failed, not from gifts.

Or perhaps it was from what was poking him in the back. Reaching for the offending object, he found something that was not a pillow or blanket. He silently cursed, wondering if Ethan and Jane had collaborated in their plans.

It was a bear, a brown teddy bear. Simple, but soft. For a moment, he considered the object, thinking of how it could be taken as an insult. Following that logic, he wondered if the driver would enjoy having the object hit him in the back of the head. However, he pushed that aside knowing the true intent. It was meant as a sign of comfort, of support. Thinking back to the glimpses of tragedy he had awoken from, he accepted the silent offer from his friend.

With it, he knew came a future conversation. It was less of an expectation, but a given; he knew Ethan Hunt. That combined with Jane, he knew explanations would be in store. And he was not ashamed, but with the logic of reality in front of him, asking what ifs were a waste of time and attributing stress for no reason.

It would be for the best, despite his apprehension of exposing weakness to more experienced agents. He sunk into the dark, bear snuggled in his arms. Relaxing, he let consciousness fade, knowing that when he woke again, it would be in the same safety. They were alive and so was he, he would be fine in time.

His last thought before falling asleep was if he should name the bear Smokey or Yogi.


End file.
